


Snow

by Salmon_I



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Bottom America (Hetalia), Creepy Fluff, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Morbid Humor, There's A Tag For That, Top Russia (Hetalia), drugged coffee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-10
Updated: 2017-06-10
Packaged: 2018-11-12 06:35:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,958
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11156283
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Salmon_I/pseuds/Salmon_I
Summary: Russia sighed before finally sitting up and looking at the younger nation who, for all his scientific expertise, apparently did not understand the notion of jet lag. He was holding his pipe in both hands, one knee on the bed, still dressed in his pajamas but wearing his spectacles."We`re going to miss it if you don`t get up."





	Snow

Russia stirred when someone poked him. Ignoring the sensation, he buried further into the blankets, only to be poked a second time. He swatted the offending hand away, only for it to return again. With a low curse, he opened one eye so he could make a grab for the wrist of whoever was daring to disturb him. The hand dodged away, followed by a tell-tale laugh. "America, it is early."

"You have to wake up, dude. Seriously, we`re going to miss it."

When Russia grunted, but didn`t move, America poked him again. "America."

"Present and accounted for."

"Do you see my pipe?"

"Next to the bed. Seriously, dude, normal nations have night lights and teddy bears, you know."

"Pick it up for me."

"We really don`t have time for this." America muttered, but Russia felt the bed shift, and heard a soft scrape of metal against wood. "Kay, I got it. Now what?"

"Hit yourself with it."

"I bet I could break this really easily..."

Russia sighed before finally sitting up and looking at the younger nation who, for all his scientific expertise, apparently did not understand the notion of jet lag. He was holding his pipe in both hands, one knee on the bed, still dressed in his pajamas but wearing his spectacles.

"We`re going to miss it if you don`t get up."

"What is it we will miss?"

"The first snowfall."

"Snow? You woke me up to see snow? America, I see enough snow."

"This isn`t just any snow. It`s the first snowfall of the season. It`s special. I want to share it with you."

"You hate the cold."

"We`ll bring the blankets."

 

Which was what they were huddled under, half an hour later, sitting on the front porch of America`s house and watching white flakes drift lazily to the ground. "See? Didn`t I tell you this was special?" America grinned over at him, before snuggling closer, wrapping the blankets tighter.

Perhaps it was the other nation`s joy, but the moment did seem special. The snowfall seemed extremely gentle, and the usually loud lands hushed by its very existence. He reached a hand out from the cocoon of blankets to brush through the others wheat gold hair, and paused when he felt how cold it felt. "You are getting rather chilled." Russia leaned close to his ear to whisper.

"Mmm..." He gave a soft hum, before glancing out of the side of his eyes with a slight smirk. "So, keep me warm." He challenged.

Russia chuckled, the hand around America's waist tightening. The fingers sifting his hair cupped the back of his head instead, and drew him up for a kiss. Lips moved unhurridly against each other, before their tongues slid out, touching and teasing. The gentle atmosphere seemed to influence them, and their movements remained slow and lazy. America dragged across his chest, brushing his nipples through the fabric of his pajama shirt, but not lingering.

Russia moved the hand on his waist downward, sliding under the hem of his sweatpants and boxers, fingers stroking along the skin of his tailbone, dipping into the crease of his butt cheeks teasingly. America groaned into the kiss, free hand gripping his neck. He moved his own hand downward, fingers splaying out as they passed his stomach and ghosted over his groin.

The older nation shuddered at the light touch, and he broke the kiss to nuzzle along the other's jaw. The other tilted his head, nipping at his jawline once, then soothing the skin with the brush of his lips. Russia slid the hand down the back of his pants further, squeezing his butt and toying with the crease some more before reaching his balls.

America gave a gasp, shuddering at the touch, his hand moved back up again, this time sliding into the other's pants, but remaining over his boxers. He slid downwards to cup his cock through the fabric. "Hard for me already?" He teased,

Russia gave a small growl, teeth scraping down his neck lightly, the hand playing with his balls grew slightly rougher. "I do not like to be teased."

"Then stop teasing me." Came the return quip, and the hand rubbing his cock squeezed back - slightly too hard to be fully pleasurable.

The mood didn't last though. The quiet air was too still for it, lulling them as Russia pushed the other nation down onto the porch. Their touches became languid again, and they kissed as their hands worked below the covers - pushing clothing down but not off.

Fully erect now, Russia slid his member between the other's thighs, hand reaching between them to stroke America's cock. The blonde moaned into their kiss, squeezing his thighs tighter around the other. Russia gave a groan, before he started moving. Matching each thrust of his hips with a stroke to America's pulsing member. No words were spent between them, and even the grunts and moans they made seemed muffled by the stillness in the air. America broke off the kiss to bury in Russia's shoulder, and Russia sped up his thrusts. His precum slicked the other's thighs, making it easier to slide in and out between them, and he smeared America's down his length to ease the pumping motion of his hand.

His free hand gripped his shoulder, and America's were gripping his hip - not pushing or pulling, merely holding on as he set their pace. He felt both their grips tighten as climax neared, tingling and pounding, and exploding until they were left lying breathless and spent in each other's arms.

After several minutes, America twisted their position so he was on top, and curled the blankets around them as he nuzzled into his chest, eyes turning back to the fallen snow. The landscape had been transformed to a white wonderland while they were busy.

"Let`s always watch the first snow together." He murmured.

Russia nuzzled into his hair, breathing in the mixed scent of snow, harvest, and sunny beaches. "Da. We will do that."

 

 

America`s head was pounding. Whether it was economic troubles, or simply sore eyes from the mounds of paperwork on his desk he couldn`t say. He downed a painkiller, and stretched the sore muscles in his back. Someone rapped at the door, and he resisted the urge to snarl at whoever was on the other side. "Come in!" He started reading the next sheet, waiting for whoever it was to announce themselves. When the creak of the door was followed by the heavy sound of footsteps, but no one spoke, he looked up in annoyance.

Russia was standing not far from his desk, smiling. "Our representatives are killing each other in the next room." He told him cheerfully.

"No problem. I have a great stain remover. Nobody will ever know." He forced a smile of his own before turning back to the paperwork.

"Do you stack the bodies in the cellar?"

"Too cliche. I bury them in the garden. That`s why it`s so awesome."

"Kolkolkol." Russia came closer, but America ignored him, still working on the papers. "But it is almost winter now. Your first snow will fall soon."

"..." America was silent for a long moment. Then he signed the paper in his hand, put it on a specific pile, and picked up another document. "I suppose it will."

"You want to see it, da?"

"There`s no time this year."

Russia hummed, looking at the piles of paperwork. "You have much work still."

"Always, anymore."

"When was the last time you took a break?"

"Russia."

"America."

"Go blow something up, okay?" His smile was cheerful. "I have to finish these."

"Very well. I will find something to do."

America looked after him suspiciously when the other nation exited. After it appeared he wasn't going to come right back, he turned back to the paperwork. He got three paragraphs in before realizing he hadn't truly read a single word. "Hell." Standing up and grabbing his suit jacket from the back of the chair, he stopped when someone knocked. Gritting his teeth, and worried what Russia might be up to after he pretty much invited him to blow something up, he pulled on the jacket and sat back down. "Come in!"

Russia entered with a two mugs of steaming liquid. "I brought coffee. Since you have so much paperwork to do." He set one on the desk. America eyed it suspiciously. Not bothered by the look, Russia moved away from the desk to sit on a couch that was on one side of the room.

"Thanks, I'll have some if I get desperate." America flashed him a grin, before pushing the coffee to one side, and continuing to work on his paperwork.

"Your couch is very comfortable."

"Ah."

"I should get myself a comfortable couch like this for my office for when I need a break."

"Sounds great."

"I could even nap on it, da? I bet it is great for naps."

America's pen snapped in half. "Russia."

"America."

"I have to finish these."

"That will be hard to do with your pen broken. I will go get you another one."

He watched him leave, before pulling another pen out of a drawer and turning back to his paperwork. Two pages later, he absentmindedly picked up the coffee to take a sip. Two paragraphs later he was slumped over his desk, unconscious.

The door creaked open mere seconds after the thud of him falling over. "Kolkolkol."

 

America stirred when someone poked him. He batted the hand away, vaguely aware that he was lying down when he should be sitting up. Then it came to him that he was wrapped in a blanket, fully clothes, but still chilly. The second time he was poked, he realized he was lying on something hard, though his head was pillowed in a warm lap. Too busy connecting the dots, he didn't bat at the hand when it poked him a third time. Office, paperwork, Russia, coffee, pen...Russia. Shit.

He sat up, glancing around, and becoming disoriented quickly. A hand offered him Texas, and he quickly pulled the glasses on, turning a glare on his boyfriend. "Russia."

"America."

"Where are we?"

"Your house."

Large yard, picket fence, porch swing. Chill in the air. "I told you I didn't have time to take a break."

"Da, you did."

"I really should have known better than to drink your coffee."

"Kolkolkol."

America ran a hand through his hair with an exasperated sigh. "Why are we freezing on the porch instead of inside on a nice, comfy, warm bed?"

"Because you might miss it otherwise."

He frowned at that, glancing at the other's smiling face, before looking back out across the yard. There was a hesitant, almost expectant feeling in the chill air. There was a muffled feeling to the air, a hushed silence. When the snowflakes began to drift lazily downward, he let out a breath he hadn't realized he'd been holding. "The first snowfall."

"Even though you have much to do now...if you do not stop for moments like these, there is no point in being busy." Russia spoke slowly and quietly, as if afraid to break the peaceful moment.

America watched the snow continue to fall, slowly laying his head back into the other's lap, one hand coming up to rest next to his head on his knee. "Thank-you." Russia began to sift a hand through his hair gently and he felt a content smile curve his mouth. "You do realize I will get you back for drugging my coffee."

Russia smiled, leaning down to nuzzle into his hair. "I look forward to it."

_Fini_

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, kids, nice boyfriends do not drug your coffee when you're being a work-a-holic. Russia is just slightly psychotic. XD 
> 
> This fic was written for a prompt in the days of aph fluffathon. It wasn't an easy write for me at all. It was my first time writing RusAme, my first time writing America as uke, and it was fluff. My fluff tends to be weird. Point in fact - drugged coffee and morbid humor.
> 
> Despite all of that, or maybe because of it, I have always liked this fic. It wasn't a hit back when I wrote it, but hopefully some readers here will enjoy it.


End file.
